Chapter 15

“Whatever do you do?” Aubrey asked as she chugged down half of her lowball.

“Newspaper columnist,” Mikel said, pretending to take a sip of the concoction that was too strong for his taste and needs.

“A pundit,” she said with a hint of condescension. “Another category of human beings that should have been dragged out the back door and shot. Trust me, no one would mourn your passing.”

“I’m not on the news beat,” Mikel said. “However, I would be willing to pass along your sentiments to the respective parties. Speaking of those parties,” he winced at the segue, “I need to contact the office and I’m concerned that my mobile has been compromised.”

“We have a secure line in Whitaker’s study, and I don’t expect him home for hours,” she said, throwing back the rest of her drink. “Go down that hallway and it’s the second door on the left. The toilet is on the other side of the hallway.”

Mikel was sure she was going to belt down more drinks and was happy that he dismissed himself from interfering further with her hobby. He did take a quick detour to the toilet to pour out his drink. While he would relish getting damn good and drunk later in the evening, there was business to address.

Of course, the desk was a huge slab of polished wood with matching bookcases, a credenza, and a cigar bar. He tried to dismiss all the noise of extravagance as he sat in the overstuffed executive chair with cracked leather from a bygone era. The telephone on the desk was a 1950’s black rotary dial phone. He picked up the handle and was disappointed there was no dial tone. Hidden under a casually tossed pile of yellow legal pads, Mikel found the headset and the cell phone mounted in a plastic form with a large digital screen that looked like a small television. The mobile was not a brand he recognized.

After turning the phone on, the screen popped up asking for a code. Slightly miffed at the roadblock, Mikel did the first thing that came to mind. He lifted the phone in its formed cradle and looked underneath. Sure enough, he typed in the six numbers taped to the bottom and watched the main screen appear. Deciding that caution was the word of the day, he called his attorney.

“Hello, law offices,” Remy said.

“How lovely it is to hear your voice,” Mikel said. “Hi, Remy.”

“Hi yourself, my nighttime lover, taunting me all night long with your wicked promises. I assume you want to talk to Ms. Rasmussen?”

“I’d rather talk with you, but I do need to speak with my attorney.

“I’ll let her know but, in the meantime, you can stay on the line with me and flirt.”

Mikel smiled. “What exactly are we doing in your dreams?”

“Name a hole and we’ve done it,” Remy said. “Hot, wet, and nasty, and gentle, sweet, and loving. You’ve sent chills up my spine and caused me to lose control far too many times.”

“Sweet Mary Confessor, you’ve got me hard, Remy.”

“Payback is a bitch, nighttime lover. When are you going to come back and claim me?”

“As soon as it’s safe,” Mikel said with a sigh. “I heard the west side of the city is a mess.”

“Enough damage has piled up that the shore is finally sliding into the water,” Remy said. “They had to stop all westbound trains. Is that you, too?”

“There is a regional rail line that heads north first before crossing over the river further up. The northern commuter line is still running,” Mikel said.

“Good to know. Ms. Rasmussen will speak with you now. Bye, bye sweet boy.”

“Mr. Barajas, you have managed to stay below the radar and out of federal hands, much to my surprise,” she said. “They attempted to serve a subpoena here last week. Easily rebuffed, I must say as the Appeals Court ruled there was simply no evidence other than their own incompetence.”

“They’re running scared,” Mikel said. “Regardless of your legal victory, if they’re scared, then we should all be.”

“Where would you suggest we run and hide, Mr Barajas? There is no Planet B to which anyone can escape.”

“I believe that was my quip,” Mikel said. “The feds have been beaten back, what about the rape charge?”

“You are cleared, and the bad guys are in custody. Apparently, you are not their first pigeon fricassee,” Ms. Rasmussen said. “Unfortunately, the chances of recouping my fees from them in court are remote. We are not the first in line to sue them by a long shot.”

“I’m sure Aria will be disappointed to hear, considering she probably generates digital currency without regard to ownership. Last on the list, Mr. Bartolucci?”